Lessons

It is true that we do not know what we have until we lose it, but it is also true that we do not know what we have been missing until it arrives.

Nostalgia

When she finally got back to her old home town, she found it wasn't the old home that she missed, but her childhood.

Mama Mia

I have such happy childhood memories of pasta. My neighbours growing up were Italian and one of my earliest memories was being left at Rosa's house when my mother went into labour with my sister. Rosa hardly spoke any English at the time, a few words here and there, mostly commands. She had three children and we were all close in age: the twins a year older than me, and the youngest my age, minus a couple months.

I distinctly remember Rosa feeding me. My indignant three year old self was quite annoyed as I was allowed to feed myself at home. To add further insult to injury, she allowed her youngest (same age as me) to feed herself. I couldn't quite understand why she felt the need to personally feed me when her youngest went unassisted. Perhaps it was because I was the guest, but more likely than not, it probably had something to do with me being the scrawny neighbour kid with the long skinny legs. I am sure she felt my scrawniness was some fault of my parents, rather than a combination of genetics and spending hours running around outdoors like a wild banshee.

So there I sat as she spoon fed me saying "mangi, mangi" or something of the like. The trouble was I have always been a slow eater. Rosa continued shoveling one spoonful into my mouth after another. I simply could not chew and swallow fast enough and eventually had such a full mouth that I had to spit it out or risk choking to death...so out it all came much to Rosa's chagrin and dissatisfaction. The irony, even at three, did not allude me. Had she simply let me feed myself, as I was quite capable (at least in my mind) of doing, none of that would have happened. But despite that minor blip, I did love Rosa's cooking, especially her pasta. She usually made spaghettini which not only tasted delicious, but each mouthful felt incredibly luscious and deeply satisfying as it made it's way down my throat and into my stomach.

Lately I've been having a craving for homemade pasta, so yesterday was the day. I'd forgotten how easy it is to make and how much better fresh pasta tastes than the stuff bought at the grocery store. The recipe below is for a small batch. I'd recommend doubling it depending how many you're hoping to feed.

Basic Pasta

1 C durum semolina
1 egg
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp water (if and as needed)

Put all ingredients in a food processor. For this batch, I added some fresh cilantro (just because I had some in my fridge that needed to be used), some basil and some fresh ground pepper. Be creative, add what you wish. Basil is my favorite, but you can add a variety of other herbs and spices or even vegetables to flavour the pasta as you wish: oregano, nutmeg, spinach, grated lemon peel, poppy seeds.

Once the dough is well mixed, put it through your pasta maker. I just have a little hand crank one, but it works well for small batches. You could also roll it out thin with a rolling pin and slice with a knife. I've known many to make noodles this way and then hang to dry if not using right away. Of course nothing beats them fresh.

A New Resolution

As the New Year is rung in, many of us become reflective of who we are and where we are going. We make resolutions to change or better the parts of ourselves we believe are negative. In due time, many of us revert back to how we were previously and feel like failures. Not to minimize the importance and value of trying to be the best that we can, but this year I challenge you to a new resolution: I challenge you to be yourself. Sure, be kind, not just to others, but also to yourself. Be forgiving, if it's warranted and try to look at all situations through the lens of love. As Napoleon once said, "in the long run, the sword is always beaten by the spirit." May you have much spirit in the coming year. I wish you all an abundance of love and happiness. What more could we really want or need?

Merry Kitschmas

Yes, even in the very heart of the Kootenays where beauty often surpasses beauty itself, kitsch is alive and well if you know where to look. And I wish I could add the sound bites that go with these photos. Yep, that's right, you've got the non-stop music ting-a-linging away as well. It's quite a scene. I mainly have two thoughts: first, where do they store all this stuff? Honestly, you haven't seen the half of it here. And the house is quite tiny, so I'm really not sure. And it's not just Christmas, almost any holiday that comes along, they've got a whole yard display. My second thought is that I hope that this is making some child extremely happy, although it could just as easily give nightmares. I certainly wouldn't want these images in my dreams.


Other than that, despite my silence, I wish you all extremely well. Life kind of got away from me for a bit and when I had the chance to sit still, that, not surprisingly, is all I wanted to do. And there is no better time to sit quietly than in these dark winter months. I am very much enjoying them, although I might protest the cold as I occasionally have want to do. I shall be back...most hopefully very soon.

One Thousand Years

A thousand years from this tonight
When Orion climbs the sky,
The same swift snow will still the roofs,
The same mad stars run by.

And who will know of China's war,
Or poison gas in Spain?
The dead ... they'll be forgotten, lost,
Whether they lose or gain.

Of all the brilliant strategies
Of war-lords now alive,
Perhaps a Chinese iris vase
Of porcelain may survive...

Perhaps a prayer, perhaps a song,
Fashioned of love and tears,
But only beauty, only truth,
Will last a thousand years.

~T Malone

The Essence

Myths are things which never happened but always are.
~Sallustius

Once in a Moon

Your face reminds me
of a large full moon
on a dark cloudless night,
beaming down at the
deep, tenebrous, rumbling sea
whose fluid hips swirl,
dancing seamlessly around
the shimmering stars and
keeping rhythm to the
unvoiced song swimming
through the waves
in my head.

Blog Personalities?

I just ran my blog through Typealyzer a tool that calculates your Myers Briggs Type Indicator based on the content of your blog. So I'm guessing, that in actual fact, this is my blog's personality and not necessarily mine. We do often adapt a different persona in different situations, do we not? I suppose, however, at some level, this is who I am, at least in part.

I suspected that perhaps the "Typealyzer" was basing its analysis on my blog's front page. So as not to take things for granted, I took it upon myself to run a few different pages / years through the analysis. They all came up the same, so I guess I'm pretty consistent in my writing, either that, or this is actually my personality. I haven't yet decided. In any case, Typeaylzer declared me to be: ESFP or extroverted, sensing, feeling, perceiving. Hmm... So here you have it folks...me the performer. Run your own blog through and let me know how it all pans out.

ESFP - The Performers

The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves.

Here are a few other characteristics of the ESFP:

• Lively and fun
• Live in the here and now
• Often find themselves in the role of peace maker
• Observant about other people
• Spontaneous and optimistic
• Love to have fun (who doesn't?)
• Likely to be practical, but hate structure and routine
• Have an appreciation for aesthetic beauty

Tree Planter's Waltz

A little snippet of BC mountain culture for you. This was apparently filmed May 2009, however, if I didn't know better, I'd guess the filming in the Merritt night club took place sometime in the eighties. But then again, I have passed through Merritt, the culture is its own. Warning, the song will grow own you despite all protestations.

In the Spotlight

I've boarded the train, scrutinized the numbers on my ticket amongst the the Chinese characters and meandered my way to what I hope is my hard sleeper. Next stop: Xian, the Terracotta Warriors with over 2000 years of history and an adventure in the making.

Shortly thereafter a couple arrives with a new born. The woman smiles and nods and then busies herself with the child. The man quickly engages in conversation as the train slowly begins to rattle its way along the tracks. I find the Chinese very curious and friendly. Canadians are well thought of in China due to Norman Bethune's participation in the Long March. "Canada and China...very good friends," the man tells me.

It hasn't taken me very many days to realize that our western sense of "taboo" is completely non-existent in this country. Just a day before, after a bout of food poisoning and looking incredibly jaundiced, a Chinese person came up to me and inquired, "so, is your skin white or is it yellow?" How does one explain that? Normally, if I feel good, not quite so yellow. One would never get away with pointing out skin colour in Canada...it just simply isn't politically correct. Here, however, absolutely nothing is off limits, except perhaps criticism of the government.

As the train creeps through the country side, We pass a series of your standard Chinese shanty shacks. Farmers toil the fields accompanied by mangy looking dogs. Eventually, up a dusty hill, I see an unusually luxurious looking residence. Officially the Chinese can't own land, or so I've been told, but the man is most obviously nervous about this topic and the sharp contrast of this house compared to those we saw previously.

The conversation turns back on the baby. With the one child rule, children are spoiled and doted on. These parents, like so many others, are beamingly proud. My mind keeps flitting to a particular fair haired, blue eyed "waspy" looking friend back home who had allegedly been born with a mysterious "Mongol spot", a dark spot at the base of the tailbone which I've been told is common place amongst almost all Asian children. The spot usually disappears when the child is anywhere between two and four years of age. For years, this girl's doctor teased her of being descended from Genghis Khan, for the spot is sure "proof" of Mongol blood. I wonder. It is not something that I had ever witnessed. Was it true?

Eventually curiosity overcomes my reserved, stoic upbringing. I have to know...so I ask, "is it true?" The father immediately flips the child over and whips off her bottoms and there it is. I'm stunned. I no longer remember what I had imagined, but it certainly wasn't this...a big dark blue, round spot that looks like a huge bruise. The father explains that there is a myth about a benevolent goddess...although looking at the size of the spot, I'm not quite sure how benevolent she could be. When the child is coming into the world, if the goddess decides to spare the child's life, she gives it a hard smack on the bottom right as it makes its way into the world leaving this big round blue spot. This young girl has been spared and apparently blessed.

Elderberry Magic

Here I've done it again. Life has gotten in the way, and I hardly have time to breathe, let alone blog. But for the past couple of weeks, I've been ruminating about everything I want to tell you about Elderberries and quite frankly October couldn't be more perfect month to broach the topic, for no tree is so magical, nor none surrounded by as much folklore and mystery than that of the Elder. Alas, it is the tree upon which it is purported that Judas hanged himself, as Langland's Vision of Piers Plowman stated:

'Judas he japed with Jewen silver, And sithen an eller hanged hymselve.'

Although the branches of the Elder are so willowy that I find it hard to believe that anyone could hang himself upon such a tree. But perhaps, as another tradition states, the tree only became that way after the cross of Calvary was made with it:

'Bour tree - Bour tree: crooked rong
Never straight and never strong;
Ever bush and never tree
Since our Lord was nailed on thee.'

But the Elder's mystery and folklore predate Christianity. Heathen myths of northern Europe talk about Hylde Moer, the Elder-tree mother who lived in the tree and watched over it. Should the tree be cut down and furniture be made of it, Hylde Moer would follow her property and haunt the owners. In fact, if one wanted to cut from an Elder tree, he had to first ask permission and not cut until consent was given through silence to prevent ill luck from befalling him.

Numerous other bizarre superstitions regarding the Elder extend well beyond the small borders of northern Europe. Russians believe the Elder tree to drive away evil spirits, Bohemians go to it with a spell to take away fevers and Sicilians believe that sticks from the Elder tree will kill serpents and drive away robbers. In England it was once thought that the Elder tree was never struck by lightening and that a twig of Elder tied into three or four knots and carried in one's pocket would prevent rheumatism. Some in Britain also collected Elder leaves the last day of April and affixed them to their doors and windows to prevent witches from entering their homes. In Denmark, one might see the fairy king and all his attendants go by, simply by sitting under an Elder tree on Mid-summer's Eve.

But more exciting than all this folklore, is what I shall get to in my next post: the medicinal benefits and folk remedies that come from Elderberries.

Summer Harvests

Most of you know that I get busy with things like canning this time of year. I really prefer eating foods that are regional, fresh, and in season. Nothing can beat the intense flavours of vine ripened vegetables or fruits. Summers are plentiful, but, of course, living in a northern climate, there's not much that's regional and fresh in the winter. Essentially, canning or freeing is the only way to capture those fresh flavours and save them for grey, dreary, dark days.

This year, like most, I canned a whole slew of tomatoes, essentially because they are so versatile and go in so many dishes. Some years I think I will eat less tomatoes...they are, after all, from the nightshade family, however, I haven't yet gotten to the point where I feel the necessity to eliminate them.

I also did up apple sauce. We have bumper crops of apples this year the likes of which haven't been seen in years. Old trees in the mountains, which haven't produced much in years, have boughs bending to the point of breaking they are so heavily laden with fruit. Apples are definitely on the menu this fall and some sauce for the winter.

I don't always, but this year I also did up a couple batches of tomato sauce. It's nice to have sauce already prepared and to be able to simply open a jar. I did one batch with a recipe from the Re-Bar cookbook and then made up a batch of my own making. Mine was heavy on the basil, with not quite as much garlic as the first batch.

I still have some more canning / food prep to do if I can find the time, but I essentially feel okay about the colder weather settling in.

The Plea

Be the fire in my heart
Be the wind in these sails
Be the reason that I live
Give me hope to carry on.

Heavenly Concoctions

My latest ice cream experiment was a screaming success and I have to share it before summer leaves us completely. I've learned a few things about home made ice cream this summer. First, the addition of alcohol keeps it from freezing so hard (an issue with non-commercial ice creams). Second, if one uses fresh (or even frozen) fruit, one can totally eliminate the cooking of an egg custard step found in so many recipes. This is a real coup if you are trying to eat raw. Now the real trick here is going to be to try to remember exact proportions of ingredients as a couple weeks have now passed since I first created this concoction.

Rum Raisin Peach Ice Cream

Take about a half cup of raisins and cover with rum. Let sit over night.

In blender, mix 1 1/2 C of cream, 3/4 C of sugar, 3 C of skinned chopped peaches, rum and raisins. Blend until thoroughly mixed. Put into your ice cream maker and process as usual.

How easy is that? Enjoy.

Zucchini Soup with Pasta

It's that time of year when harvest is plentiful and cheap...if not free. If you've ever grown zucchini, you will know that they can go, or rather grow, a bit crazy. Many around here are continually looking for ways to use or disguise the stuff so their children will eat it. When they're not doing that, they are pawning these huge squash off to neighbours and friends. I never mind, I actually quite love the stuff and have used it in all kinds of things. I have never, however, up to this point made soup with it, but must say I was pleasantly surprised by how fresh, light and refreshing it was. It's just the sort of fair you need for this time of year. And of course, this is really simple to make. The taste almost reminds me of the soups my Italian neighbour from my childhood used to make. Rosa never ever, to my knowledge, put zucchini in her soup, but she always made these light brothy soups with little pasta like stellette, so different from the more substantial meal in a bowl type soups my mother usually made. In any case, if you'd like to try something a little different with your zucchini, I'd recommend this. It's perfect for a cooler, end of the summer evening and would be perfect served with a slice of crusty bread.


4 Tbsp olive oil
2 smaller onions finely chopped (or one large)
6 1/4 cups of chicken or turkey broth
1 1/2 lbs of zucchini (probably about 4 cups grated)
1/2 cup of small soup pasta (I used small bows, but use whatever)
a little lemon or lime juice
2 Tbsp fresh chopped parsley
salt and freshly ground black pepper
cherry tomatoes halved
fresh grated Parmesan or another hard cheese of your choice

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and add the onions. Cover and cook gently for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until soft but not coloured.

Add the chicken or turkey broth and bring the mixture to a boil.

Grate the zucchini and stir into the boiling stock with the pasta. Reduce the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 15 minutes until the pasta is tender.

Season to taste with a bit of lemon or lime juice, salt and pepper. Stir in the chopped parsley. Just before serving top with some halved cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan cheese.

Enjoy.

Being

At the end of the day, all that matters is who is in your life.

The Task

There comes a time
when one must remove
all evil from his life.
Surgically cut it away
with a razor sharp knife
that runs deep and makes
the blood flow thick and fast
like the letting done
with leeches long ago.

Dreamy

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

~W. Shakespeare

Anguish

Thrust into the darkest part of the night,

I flailed about and hated the unordered chaos.

The ice burnt a hole in my heart,

And tears evaperated into bitterness

As anger held tight to my thrashing soul.